


On being human

by Crows_Feet



Series: Home [4]
Category: Archive 81 (Podcast)
Genre: Canon-typical swearing, Coming Out, Found Family, M/M, Nonbinary Chris Anderson, Post LoTD, The Irons, Trans Nicholas Waters, alright kids we've got, gay pining, hello i'm Back On My Bullshit: Statnick edition, learning how to be a person, no neither of them are important but yes they are trans, this time on, uhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:00:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27041650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crows_Feet/pseuds/Crows_Feet
Summary: When they finally head down to the bunkrooms that night, Nick is tired but happy. He falls into a hammock and hears Stat do the same. The room is quiet; he can hear waves lapping against the boat on the other side of the wall, and the soft creaking breaths of the ship is just lulling him to sleep when-“So here’s the thing about Bulbasaur,” starts Stat, unprompted and indignant, and Nick barks a laugh into the dark of the room.Or: Nick and Static man visit the Irons, and learn how to be people together.
Relationships: Static Man/Nicholas Waters
Series: Home [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1917883
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	On being human

There is something strange about being ‘home’. Nicholas has always felt it after long trips, after time away, like he’s grown, or changed shape, and doesn’t quite fit back into his old life anymore. He hasn’t been home since his father first ‘died’, since before everything with Chris, since before Static man.

There’s no fitting yourself back in. You’ve grown; your house didn’t. (Slowly, slowly, you mould it to fit the person you’ve become. Slowly, it starts to feel like home again).

Nick isn’t sure that home is one place anymore. He’s unsure, sometimes, waking up before the sun has fully risen, before Morgan starts to move about, before Static man yawns wide, full of teeth, and grumbles on his way to the bathroom he doesn’t technically have to use, about how he would define the word home.

He’s not sure he ever had it, before. As a college student, then TA, then crashing in hotel room after hotel room. He doesn’t know that he’s ever felt truly at home anywhere. (Nick has always built himself out, not in. He starts with what he has, what he is. It doesn’t feel like enough.)

Nicholas shares coffee with Morgan in the kitchen in the mornings, while Stat is still stumbling about in the bathroom and playing imaginary music on an invisible drum set. (Nick’s lent him his old mp3 player and helped him download his choice of songs. Stat likes to blast it at full volume in the early hours of the morning but is considerate enough to wear headphones most of the time).

Morgan reminds him a great deal of Chris, all taciturn and sharp grins and sniping back and forth across the table. Stat comes into the kitchen and flips pancakes in a pan he’s getting much better at not dropping. Butter sizzles and Stat swears gratuitously as pancakes burn. Morgan eyes him over her cup of coffee and idly glances over a newspaper. (Nick hasn’t asked her if she has family she wants to go back to, yet. He’s not sure if that would be rude, not sure how long she spent in that Moody’s.) He stirs his coffee and looks away.

Some nights they all sprawl out over Nick’s little couch, put on old movies that Stat somehow knows all the lines to, and likes to enthusiastically yell out right before a dramatic reveal. Nick smiles at him. Morgan kicks her feet up over the arm of the couch, shoulder just touching Nick’s. (Some nights, they all fall asleep there, even Stat, who doesn’t really need to.)

(It’s nice. Nick wakes up feeling warm, with static pressed up against him sending his arm to sleep. He wonders if this is what home feels like).

Sometimes Stat forgets how to interact with physical objects. These are his bad days, when coffee cups shatter on tiled floors in the morning, when the pan falls through his hand and he curses, when he shakes with static and locks himself away in the bathroom.

(Sometimes they manage to coax him out, and put on old movies and tv shows. They sit on the floor, and Stat lies across Nick’s legs like a cat and sinks through them, warm static settling around Nick’s thighs. Nick runs his hand over where Stat’s hair would be if he had any, and hums along to the soundtrack playing on the old screen. Sometimes, Morgan pulls out an instrument, and strums away quietly in the background. Slowly, slowly, Stat settles.)

He’s embarrassed, afterwards, usually. Quiet and shaky and not quite facing either of them. Nick says, “You’re allowed to have bad days,” and Morgan pushes another cup of coffee across the table.

(Sometimes, Nick lets his hand fall over Stat’s, thinks about the way his teeth flash when he grins, about the smell of butter and pancakes and coffee, about muted, tinny music playing through old headphones. He repeats, “You’re allowed to have bad days.”)

Nick does most of the shopping for their little household. He takes Morgan, sometimes, but it’s a bit less inconspicuous taking a man made of static and teeth down the street to the corner store. He knows Stat feels cooped up, and empathises, but doesn’t know what else to do. (Sometimes, Stat just turns off the tape recorder they keep running to disappear for a few hours. Morgan always seems to know when to turn it back on. Nicholas wishes he could know that.)

(He’s getting too used to warm static pressed against his side, and doesn’t quite know how to be a person without it there).

Stat comes back from the void, and he’s _quiet_. (Nick doesn’t know how to reconcile that in his head, doesn’t know how to talk to him, to let him know that Nick knows something’s wrong.)

It’s Morgan who firsts suggests it. “Get out of the house for a bit,” she says, without looking up from the computer she’s applying for college courses on. “Go visit your sister or something. You shouldn’t be cooped up in here all the time.” Nick looks and Stat, and Stat looks at Nick. They search through old tapes until Nick finds one for communication. They complete the ritual for a communication spell in an old motel a forty-minute drive away, and Nick sees his sister’s face for the first time in months.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” says Chris.

Morgan helps them pack some bags, and then they drive. Stat’s still uncharacteristically quiet as the radio hums out a tune that Nick is pretty sure he should be concerned about. He twists the dial slightly to the left and an advertisement jingle begins to play.

“Hey,” says Nick uncertainly. “Uh. So, I’ve been thinking about getting into Pokémon. I… assume you have thoughts?” and white teeth twist into a smile from the passenger’s seat.

They fall back into something familiar, something warm. Nick pulls magic out of the universe through ritual after ritual; they lie on the cooling roof of the car in the evenings and look up at the stars. They pass deserted Moody’s occasionally, sometimes stopping at a diner where you can write your order and it’ll appear a few minutes later, no clerk required. Stat tells him about Pokémon.

When they start getting close to the port, they find a Moody’s to park the car in, ritual against theft of personal belongings already completed. They wander down streets then through winding cobblestone alleyways until Stat catches sight of sails and they come out onto the dock. There’s only one ship docked on the pier close to them, a familiar white-haired figure leaning off the edge.

Upon catching sight of them, Chris launches off the side, hitting the pier with bare feet and running. Nicholas is abruptly caught up in tanned arms and white hair and Chris’ laugh surrounds him.

“I missed you,” he says, and Chris hugs him tighter.

“Missed you too, you dork.”

Chris lets go of him and gets a fist bump from Static man. “What’s up, dude?” asks Stat, and Chris grins, pulling them over to the ship. A man with hair pulled into a ponytail leans over the side to help them up.

“Hey,” he says, when they’re safely on deck. “I’m Lou. Nice to have you aboard.”

“Hey,” says Nick. “Thank you for having us.”

Chris is eyeing the two of them with an expression Nick can’t quite place but isn’t sure he’s entirely enthusiastic about. Then Chris grins, wide and bright. “Sorry, boys, I forgot to mention we’ve only got one spare room at the moment, so you’ll be bunking together. That okay?”

Lou goes to say something and Chris steps on his foot, cutting him off.

“That’s. That’s fine,” says Nick.

When they’ve met the rest of the crew, Chris takes them down to show them to their room, and they stick their bags in a corner. There’s a pair of hammocks hung close to each other, and some draws set up in the wall next to the door so they can unpack later. “It’s really nice to see you two again,” says Chris, “Even if it’s just for a couple of days. I’ve missed you.”

“We missed you too, Christine,” says Nick. Something flickers behind Chris’ eyes, but it’s hidden by a smile a second later.

“Well, give me a shout if you need anything. Bathroom’s a couple doors down. We’ll be setting off in about half an hour. Either of you get seasick?”

“No,” says Nick.

“No,” says Stat.

Stat gets seasick.

He spends the first two hours of their trip in a hammock alternatively throwing up and voicing opinions about Pokémon that Nick doesn’t yet have the lore knowledge to understand. He’s up and about by the time Chris comes to call them for dinner, though.

The crew is lively and boisterous through the meal, cheerfully complaining and occasionally tossing a pea or two at each other across the table to resolve conflicts. It reminds Nick of Morgan and Stat in the mornings.

It’s painfully clear that this crew is family, that they are comfortable and home within each other. Nick smiles across the table at his sister but can’t help feeling a little isolated. Stat pushes a staticky shoulder into his, and grins when Nick turns towards him. (Something in his stomach turns over, and his shoulder is warm where Stat is pressed against him.) Nick smiles back.

They all climb up on top of deck later, when the sun has fully set, and Chris points out constellations that match the ones back home. Lou’s got a star map he lays out, shows them how to find direction, which stars move in strange ways throughout the night.

When they finally head down to the bunkrooms that night, Nick is tired but happy. He falls into a hammock and hears Stat do the same. The room is quiet; he can hear waves lapping against the boat on the other side of the wall, and the soft creaking breaths of the ship is just lulling him to sleep when-

“ _So here’s the thing about Bulbasaur_ ,” starts Stat, unprompted and indignant, and Nick barks a laugh into the dark of the room.

Travelling with Stat gives Nick the same warmth he once felt in a Moody’s diner, watching Stat flip pancakes and Morgan fix their car. Nick rolls over in his hammock and peers through the darkness to where Stat is trying to stop his hammock swinging too much with the roll of the waves. He thinks about Stat’s teeth flashing a grin from the passenger seat as the radio cheerfully advertises something sinister, about the way he gets excited about Pokémon and Over the Garden Wall. He turns the thoughts over and over in his head until he falls asleep.

The next few days are… nice. The crew is open and friendly and all too happy to tell him about all the shit Chris has been getting up to since they last talked. It’s a point of pride, apparently, and Nick is glad his sister has found family with this rag-tag bunch of sailors, this crew who elbow each other and convey inside jokes with just the raising of an eyebrow. He can see how this has become Chris’ home. (It’s just not his).

They climb the rigging up to the lookout and Stat presses warm up against his side. (Nick, jittery, wonders briefly if static is contagious, thinks about sliding his hand int Stat’s. There’s a tape recorder whirring away quietly in his back pocket, and nobody else around. He puts his hands in his pockets.)

It’s the fourth night that he wakes to an empty room, climbs the stairs up to the deck, moving easily with the breathing of the ship now, to find Stat leaning on the railing. His staticky form sparks slightly in the darkness, just light enough that Nick can make out his form against the darkened sky.

“Hey,” says Nick, pulling the ends of his sleeves over cold hands.

Stat turns towards him, teeth bright. Nick, again, feels staticky goosebumps run up his arms as he makes his way across the deck.

“ _Look_ ,” said Stat, taking his arm and pointing out at the waves. There’s something resembling jellyfish suspended just under the surface, almost as long as the boat, dozens of them slowly drifting past. They’re bioluminescent, glowing a bright blue that lights up the side of the boat and illuminates Stat’s teeth.

Nick thinks about Stat’s hand in his and is glad it’s probably too dark to see the flush rising to his cheeks. “Did you know jellyfish don’t have brains?” blurts out Nick.

“Uh, yeah,” says Stat. “I’ve seen Ponyo, dude.”

(Nick’s seen it too, a lifetime ago with Chris, but can’t remember enough to know if jellyfish biology was covered in any depth. He trawls back through documentaries and series, gathering all the information he knows about jellyfish, but Stat sighs very contentedly, staring out at the ocean without eyes, so he stops. Stat squeezes his hand, and turns to look at him, and Nick has never felt more seen.)

Chris, seeing them holding hands at breakfast, crows “Pay _up_ ,” smugly to the rest of the crew.

“Sonder,” says Sonder smugly, and Teddy huffs out an aggrieved sigh and drops a few coins into their outstretched hand. Nick flushes, slightly embarrassed, but Stat snags some of Chris’ winnings (cheerfully collected from Xkyryxx and Lou) and drops it in front of Nick, grinning.

When they finally return to port, Nick is a bit happier, more sunburnt, and less single than when they left. Chris catches him as Stat is doing a last check of their room to make sure nothing’s been left behind, and pulls him up to the lookout with a quiet, “Can I talk to you?”

“Is everything okay?” asks Nick when they get up there.

“Yeah,” says Chris, then, slightly more certain, “Yeah. I just, uh. Wanted to tell you something?”

“O…kay?” says Nick. Chris huffs out an uncertain breath and leans on the edge of the lookout. “You can talk to me,” Nick adds, soft and cautious.

“…So, I’m nonbinary,” says Chris, and Nick blinks.

“Oh,” he says. “Okay.”

“’Okay’?” says Chris.

“Good to know,” says Nick carefully. “Thank you for telling me. Pronouns?”

“They/them,” says Chris, and her – their – eyes are red. “I don’t know why I was so nervous to tell you,” they say, laughing.

“I mean, I’m literally trans too,” says Nick, elbowing them gently. “It’d be kind of weird for me to not be okay with it.”

“Right, of course,” laughs Chris, wiping their eyes. 

“You seem happier, here,” Nick says quietly, looking out at the ocean, ship breathing gently beneath their feet. (He doesn’t say _I missed you_. He doesn’t say _come home_. Chris has a home, and it is not with him, and he is learning to be okay with that.)

“I think I am,” says Chris. “I think I like doing something.”

They pause and look out over the ocean for several long minutes.

“So, you and Static man?” says Chris, wiggling their eyebrows at him rather suggestively.

“I guess, yeah,” says Nick.

“You seem happier, too, Nick,” says Chris. “I was worried about you, on the Blacktop. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I am happier,” says Nick, and is starting to believe it.

The drive home is quiet, calm. (And it feels like it might be home again. Nick is not sure if he is meant solely for one world or another; he thinks he might be called to travel in a similar way to Chris.) He reaches out a hand without turning away from the windshield, and a staticky hand settles in his. There is a tape recorder whirring gently on the back seat, and an unsettling advertisement on the radio.

Morgan is waiting for them back home, probably ready with a selection of movies and TV shows that Stat will have enthusiastic opinions about. Nick thinks about sitting on the floor and falling asleep with friends leaning on his shoulders. He thinks about Stat’s teeth grinning over bioluminescent oceans, about ships that breathe and siblings with shock-white hair.

They drive and drive and drive, and someday they will get somewhere.

There is a warm static hand in his, and Nick is home.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this all in one go and Did Not Proofread so we are just Ignoring the mistakes <3 
> 
> a big thank you to @temeraire on tumblr for proposing the jellyfish scene on the irons!  
> (and as always the discord folks)


End file.
